


A Critical Role Story: Time passes ... wounds heal?

by ReprobateGamer



Series: Critical Role: Stories of Future Told [5]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Future Fic, Gen, Whitestone, not quite complete, somewhat introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 12:30:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18717127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReprobateGamer/pseuds/ReprobateGamer
Summary: A century after the banishment of Vecna, the city of Whitestone gears up to celebrate.But are all it's citizens in a celebratory mood ...?





	A Critical Role Story: Time passes ... wounds heal?

**Author's Note:**

> Next in my Critical Role AU series. 
> 
> I actually started this one before 'For want of a mango...' but I'm not entirely certain where to take this one. It was meant to be a look at Vex at that point where the humans in her life have all passed on but the elves/gnomes/arch druids are still doing well. But I can't get it to a point where I'm happy with it, not least as things are a little woolly as to how children of humans/half-elves age so this one I'm releasing into the wild; with some vague hope I'll come back to it some day.
> 
> The series as a whole I still have a plan for and I'm gearing up for the next few. There are certainly hints in this one that are going to be needed (and yes I will at some point explain the things that throw up obvious questions)

Among the Alabaster Sierras, Whitestone was a beacon.  
And in particular at the moment, the city shone out, visible for miles. But this was the 100th Rennaissance Fayre, established a century ago by Lord Percival de Rolo III as a place for tinkerers to come together, demonstrate their creations and work together towards future endeavours. As is often the case, the RenFayre had expanded beyond its original concept and now was a celebration of the Legend of Vox Machina, and a celebration to the city of Whitestone itself. Whitestone had become the centre of fine artifacing – the likes of Hopperduke made for utilitarian work but Whitestone produced items with a flair that made it the industrial capital of the continent, though Emon was still the de facto head of the Tal’dorei city states.  
The Fayre had allowed Whitestone to build itself up – indeed the Iron Enclave, attached to the city was almost exclusively for gnomes working on new projects (the cynical may suggest the reason the gnomes were out of the city was to reduce the effects of the occasional explosions and out of control clockwork creations).  
Centred around the clock tower that captured the feats of Vox Machina, the Fayre lasted a week now and always featured a performance by the renowned Pansophical Cantata.  
The stories of the band of adventurers that time and again saved the city and indeed all of Tal’dorei had been taken up by the Cantata, formed by the great bard and playwright, Shortfoot. There were few living in Whitestone now that were present when Vox Machina liberated the city from the oppression of the Briarwoods and smote the Chroma Conclave, but it was whispered that the bard, and his angelic partner Dawnmarshall Shortfoot were in fact the Scanlan and Pike from the famous party. Some sneered at this idea but most of those who lived in Whitestone knew also of the Mistress of the Grey Hunt, First Baroness of Whitestone, the Lady Vex’ahlia de Rolo. She almost certainly was the Vex sung about and currently was the matriarch of the ruling family, a role that she had been serving in since Lord Percival passed away of old age a few decades ago. Whilst she wasn’t the ruler of the city, a position currently held by Lady Cassandra de Rolo II, it was widely known that Vex’ahlia de Rolo was certainly a power in the Royal Court and was equally likely to be abroad in the Parchwood or even further; her beauty still a rival to those a century younger, a heritage of her elven blood.  
The RenFayre attracted people from far and wide; as well as the tinkerers, there were the legend seekers hoping for a glimpse of one of the great heroes in attendance, whether that was one of Vox Machina, or else the famed Velora and her companions, or one of a number of adventuring parties that seemed to have risen in the wake of the heroes.  
It being a 100 years since the Ren Fayre began, the Pansophical Cantata had worked up a particularly special show and on this evening were partway through a 24 hour cycle that began with the rise of Thordak and would end with the banishing of Vecna, timed to coincide with the dawn sun and allowing an upbeat finish, with the comedy ‘A Search for Grog’ closing the programme.  
All manner of people and races had descended upon the city in its normally lonely position to join the celebrations which meant the Pale Guard, Whitestones standing army, were doing what they could on crowd control.  
The Clasp had never managed to established more than a foot-hold in the city but there were other underworld elements that escaped the view of the Pale Guard.  
Two independent examples of this were currently moving through the crowds, eyes glinting as they looked from one person to another. One nudged the other.  
“There,” he grunted quietly. “That one.”  
His partner looked over. A little ways down the bustling street a hooded figure was moving against the flow of people headed towards the Sun Tree. Obviously female in her gait, for anyone looking there was an air of furtiveness.  
“What do you reckon?”  
“Some help either rushing home to stash the weekly take, or else they’ve already got a score and are looking to drop it off before the Guard catch up.” There was a sly smile. “Perfect.”  
The two moved off after the hooded figure who moved quickly and with the air of someone avoiding contact. Stalls lined the road and sellers called their wares but the hooded figure avoided their attentions. The pair followed her, doing their best to look discrete and slowly closed the distance.  
As they were almost upon the hooded figure, crowds thinning as the bulk had now passed, it left the main street and ducked into an alleyway. The two were not far behind, and the street in front of them was empty as the last of the crowd moved past.  
The pair paused on the corner, checking that no-one left on the street was watching before following in, both pulling sharp daggers.  
“Now then lady,” the one began then pulled up short. The alleyway dead-ended twenty feet where the wall that encircled the city rose above them. There were no doors in the alley – it seemed to exist solely to separate the two houses on each side, windows dark and barred.  
The moon shone over one, casting one half in darkness. The pair moved quietly down the alleyway checking but they were the only two figures here.  
“What?”  
“Where’d she go?”  
“We must’ve mistaken where she was. It’s not as if she was going to have jumped up the wall.”  
The other grunted, eyes still piercing the shadows, moving slowly through the shaded area. But the only people there were them.  
“Come on, let’s get going. We missed her. But there will be someone else.”  
The other nodded slowly and the pair moved back out of the alley, resheathing their weapons and looking out for a new target.  
Neither looked up to the eaves so neither saw the nocked bow following their progress. From her broom, thirty feet in the air, Vex resumed breathing, releasing the tension on Fenthras. The Vestige curled, relaxing as the arrow was returned to its quiver and Vex muttered a quick Sending spell.  
_Captain Howarth, the two following me are headed back your way. Pick them up please._  
She wanted for the response.  
_Understood my lady. Moving in now._  
Vex had faith in Captain Howarth. Vex had known her great-grandfather after all and the good Captain had been a good man.  
“Great-grandfather?” She murmured to herself and shook her head. An image of a Marquesian with a sultry smile formed in her mind – she had loved Percy unconditionally but there was always a little thought with Jarett of ‘what if …?’  
The word ‘forgiveness’ etched into Fenthras in her own Elven script was visible and she shouldered the bow, hoping that Captain Howarth and her men would have no problems with the cutpads. Vex didn’t regret letting them live but did hope that she wouldn’t regret letting them go to be picked up elsewhere. They hadn’t been the most discrete of followers though and Vex had been able to already contact her captain and get some of the Pale Guard to in turn follow the cutpads as Vex lead them away from the crowds.  
Vex had hoped to walk more of the way but as she was now on the broom, she turned it in mid-air and set off over the city wall.  
The Pale Guard on patrol on this section had never spoken with the Lady Vex’ahlia but he appreciated that she waited until he had seen her distinctive profile before she set off into the woods, vanishing into the darkness. He didn’t stop walking; it wasn’t the first time she’d passed over this section and they were certainly nodding acquaintances at this point. He knew that if he didn’t see her return within a set time that he would be raising the alarm – you couldn’t have a member of the ruling family left for too long alone after all.  
Vex’s flight took her to a point that would have been an easy hours walk from the city wall and she alighted in a small clearing. She stretched awkwardly, and brought her hand to the pendent around her neck.  
BAMPF  
Trinket grunted as he appeared before Vex, turning slowly to nudge against her. Vex didn’t know what magic kept him going but she was glad that her baby bear was still a constant in her life  
His muzzle was all grey fur now and there were lighter patches across his fur, age catching up with the old bear. “Just like your mother, eh?” He grunted again, eyes closing as she rubbed the top of his head. Shaking himself he turned and wandered slowly over to the centre of the clearing. Vex followed, her eyes on the wooden seat that Pike had made all those years ago.  
Vex gracefully (and gratefully, if she was honest) sat on it. The wood was quiet around her. Her hands absently traced the names carved into the seat. Under her left hand, ‘Percy’; under her right, ‘Vax’.  
“I miss you both, darlings.”  
In her mind, Vax was turning into the embrace of the Raven Queen, and of their mother, on that balcony in Vasselheim, forever locked in her mind in that ageless moment. Percy on the other hand was always a series of images from that first look in the prison cell, his slight bashfulness as he presented her with the first special arrow, his face in death on Glintshore, leaning in for the first kiss in woods, the joy when they got married, the relief after Vecna was banished, the wonder when he held his first born child and so many other snapshots through to the look of peace as he finally passed away.  
There were other names on the seat: Dear Taryon, finally a published author; the lovely Allura: Glorious Gilmore and just the thought of that wonderful man brought a quick slight smile to the half-elf; Zahra and Kash and Tova and Jarett and Tiberius and Kerrek; the names limited to those who had directly fought alongside Vox Machina.  
And of course the still ongoing mystery of Grog and Kima. Lady Kima had received a vision from her god over two decades after Vecna had been banished over Vasselheim. She had stopped only to collect Grog and the pair headed out to fulfil her vision quest.  
Kima would return by herself, nearly two years later and no Grog. The Paladin of Bahamut did not reveal to anybody what had transpired, though it was clear to all that Kima had aged far more than the two year absence would suggest. The only person Kima ever spoke to was Pike, who absolutely would not accept no for an answer when the question was ‘where was her buddy Grog?’  
Whatever the paladin said to the cleric was not repeated, not even to their significant others, particularly to Scanlans chagrin, but that was the point where Grog’s name was added to the memorial.  
That was the last adventure that Kima went out on and she and Allura would pass away peacefully within a few days of each other. Their names were carved into the memorial by Pike who had patiently added each name in due course, excepting Kima, whose name Vex had added herself. With Pikes knowledge, of course – Vex wasn’t going to go behind her favourite gnomes back. Pike didn’t object, she just didn’t raise a finger to assist.  
Vex sat in silence for long minutes before both her and Trinkets ears perked up.  
The half-elf gave a slight smile as she rubbed the bears back. “Our gnomes never could stealth properly.”  
It was a moment longer as the gentle strains of whatever song Scanlan was humming to himself slowly got louder, an interesting counter point to the slight clank and click of Pike’s ceremonial armour.  
The gnomes entered the clearing and sat to each side of Vex. Pike sat still but Scanlan kept wiggling about and sighing.  
Vex rolled her eyes.  
“What is it?”  
Pike replied first. “He’s worrying over the show.”  
“Well, someone needs to. We keep losing the horses, the understudies are trying to sneak into the crowd scenes and I think the false beard trick isn’t working.” Scanlan gesticulated widely, standing up to pace around the clearing.  
As he continued his tirade, Vex leaned closer to Pike and asked, “How long?”  
“Most of the evening. Kaylie bet him that it would be perfect and he is convinced she has sabotaged something.”  
As Scanlan continued, Trinket grunted and put his paws over his ears as the two ladies leant against each other, regarding the gnome with degrees of fondness.  
“And another thing,” Scanlan whirled back to the pair, “where is Keyleth? All she has to do is walk through a tree. How long does that take?”  
“She is coming from Zephra. It’s only for us that crossing halfway across the continent would be considered normal.”  
Scanlan grumbled quietly to himself but took a seat next to his wife, fingers twitching as he mentally kept time with the show still playing in the midst of the RenFayre.  
It was sudden when the tree in front of them rent in two, a tunnel following and the hint of a mountainous breeze blowing in as a figure in swirling cloak strode through, the crystal spinning at the top of her staff emitting a gentle glow.  
Vex stood and greeted their visitor with a hug.  
“Vex, wait, I’ve just come from helping a birth, I’m not certain I properly cleaned up …” Vex, a mother of five, ignored her stammering friend and held her closer a moment longer.  
“it’s good to see you darling,” Vex said fondly at her friend. “It’s been a number of months.”  
“Has it?” Keyleth responded, “I was down for Vesper’s party.”  
“Which was two seasons ago.”  
“Oh, well. Hello.”  
Pike joined in the hug.  
Scanlan gave them a moment before clearing his throat. “Don’t like to break up pretty ladies hugging but we will need to be getting back. We need to get the make-up on and done before our entrance.”  
“Scanlan,” Vex replied, “there is still several hours before dawn and we don’t need to be onstage until the sun is fully up.”  
Scanlan threw up his arms.  
“Did you even look at the designs? The state Keyleth is in, we are going to need all that time to get her into her Tempest garb -”  
Pike rested her finger across his lips and waited. Scanlan sighed and shrugged.  
“Alright. Five minutes.”  
The surviving members of the group known as Vox Machina sat in silence at the memorial – Pike calm, Scanlan fidgeting, Keyleth absently druidcrafting the plants around them and Vex lost in memories. And she had a lot to be lost in. The long years adventuring; the even longer years helping to lead Whitestone; the loss of her love and husband so long ago – her brother much longer than that – and the likelihood that she would outlive all of her children. Vesper had already passed on and for the twins Juniper and Vax'ilan, and sons Percy the IV and even youngest Ludwig, it was mother Vex who noticeably looked the younger.  
Keyleth had known for years that she was likely to be the last one left of them all – but Vex, now likely to be the next in the party to move onto the next realm, had had to come to terms that she would outlast her own blood family, even as her own father and sister remained exactly the same as they had for many years. There had been a point where Velora and Vex had appeared very similar but the human heritage within Vex meant that time had long since past.  
Scanlan and Pike would not outlast their children, would never know what that pain felt, how it twisted; Keyleth had spent almost all of her life preparing for that knowledge. But it had crept up on Vex and was an insidious ache within her. Her faith in Pelor helped and watching the second and third generation of her family with Percy; of Cassandra’s own children; of the close friends she had made certainly helped. But it festered in that same dark place where she still did not fully accept the loss of Vax'ildan.  
And the world continued onwards. For all the evil things they had destroyed, banished or defeated over the years, there seemed to be more to replace them. It could seem hopeless at times.  
Unbidden she remembered a conversation with Pike from many years ago. At the end of that conversation she had told Pike that she didn’t need to always appear brave to them.  
Pike had unwaveringly said, ”Yes. Yes I do.”  
At the time, Vex had felt a stab of pity. A century later, a century of serving Pelor, and Vex understood the resolve and faith in that simple statement. She understood and she took the strength she needed. There was still work to do and there always would be, but every life saved, or soul spared, was payment enough.  
Though if there was some physical payment, that also helped…  
Vex briefly smiled to herself, deliberately took Pike’s hand and squeezed. Pike turned and there was a moment of understanding, of two friends who stood in the same space, having come at it from two different places. Pike returned the squeeze, with her own smile.  
“Right,” Vex rose smoothly to her feet, making Trinket grumble. “We should be getting back. The Pale Guard are going to be wondering where we are.” She turned to Scanlan and offered her hand. “And we have roles we need to prepare for.”  
Scanlan took her hand with a quizzical look but smiled.  
“Yes, we need to get back there.”  
“Play tonight and work tomorrow,” said Keyleth, the Staff of Melora casting a soft green glow in the midnight wood as the crystal slowly span within the staff crook. “Scanlan, do you need us to go back quickly?”  
Scanlan nodded tightly and Keyleth gestured easily, the same tree splitting open and they all passed through, a slightly drowsy Trinket bringing up the rear.  
The tree closed behind them, leaving the memorial in darkness.  
It was a time later when a black-garbed figure approached the memorial. They observed each name in turn, a short silent respect to the fallen. Once every name had been given a moment, the figure gestured and where the four members of Vox Machina had sat were now flour blooms of snowdrops.  
With this done, the figure looked once towards the glow in the sky that denoted where the city of Whitestone now lay then disappeared into shadow, his own work for his own goddess not yet complete.


End file.
